


There Won't be Anything We Have to Do

by writingonpostcards



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Christmas, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life, alcohol mention, sports injury mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: “Will see me tomorrow,” Tater tries to comfort Kent.“At the game. Where I can't acknowledge that you're anything except my opposition.”Tater sighs. Maybe one day, there won't be anything they have to do besides be themselves.Kent and Tater make their relationship work long-distance, with all the highs and lows that entails.





	There Won't be Anything We Have to Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [historical_allusions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/historical_allusions/gifts).



> Hover over Russian text for English translation (also in end notes) - thanks Kay and icannotspeakyourengland for helping with the translation.

**6 months**

“It's crazy to think about how close we are and we can't do anything about it,” Kent tells him.

“Could if really wanted,” Tater points out.

Kent sighs. “Yeah, but we know why we can't.”

“I know.”

Silence stretches and Tater's sure Kent's thinking about the exact same thing as he is, dreaming of a world where they could spend the night in each other's company and no-one would blink an eye.

“You know I almost prefer when we're on opposite sides of the country,” Kent says eventually.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. At least then I know I'm not going to be able to see you properly. But because we’re so close and I could easily go see you… It feels different. Harder to ignore that we're apart.”

“Will see me tomorrow,” Tater tries to comfort Kent, but he knows it's not easing Kent’s mind. He feels the same. When they're this close and can't meet he gets this strange feeling of losing his train of thought and not being able to pick it back up.

Kent lets out a bark of harsh laughter. “At the game. Where I can't acknowledge that you're anything except my opposition.”

“Is tricky for me always. To hide feelings when I see you.”

“Same. But it's what we have to do.”

Tater sighs. Maybe one day, there won't be anything they have to do besides be themselves.

There's movement on Kent's end of the line. Tater pictures him rolling over in bed. “Sorry for bringing the mood down,” Kent says. “It's just been on my mind and there's no-one here to really talk to. My teammates think I'm dating someone in Boston, of all places, but it's not…I still can't really speak to them about it.”

“I don't mind,” Tater says honestly. “I always want to hear about thoughts that bother you. I would like to help if I can.”

“This is helping. You listening to me. You’re so great at it.”

Tater’s chest floods with warmth. “Appreciate you say so.”

“Hmm,” Kent hums and sighs out. “You are great. I feel much calmer now. Thank you.”

“Any time. Every time.”

 

**11 months**

The text wakes Tater up from a nap. He blinks bleary eyed, and fumbles to unlock his phone, fingers stiff from helping string up Christmas lights earlier.

It's from Kent. _Box finally arrived! Skype?_

Tater quickly sends back an ‘of course’ then makes his way to the main room where Kent's box has been sitting under his tree for days now. Their first Christmas together as a couple but there was no room in their schedules to meet up. The gift box and a half-day set aside for a Skype-date is their compromise, though Tater’s a little sad he can’t kiss Kent under the mistletoe.

Kent calls as soon as he launches Skype and Tater smiles, eager to see Kent open his box.

“Hey,” Kent's beaming already and very beautiful even in an ‘ugly Christmas sweater’. “Happy Christmas!”

“Hello, K.”

Kent lifts the package into frame. “I'm so excited. Can you believe it took so long though? Guess we know the best postal service now.”

Tater laughs. “Very true. So. How we do this?” He pulls his own box into his lap. “Together? Or one by one?”

“One by one. I'm really excited to see your face when you open it.”

Tater nods. “Okay. Am ready.”

“Go ahead,” Kent encourages.

Tater pulls the tape off the packing box and opens it up. Inside are a few different presents. He pulls them out and sets them on the coffee table beside his laptop.

“Open the one in the blue paper first,” Kent says with excitement.

Tater does as he's told. It's an Aces shirsey with Kent's name and number on it. Tater blinks at it then starts laughing. Kent's already laughing about it, so hard he has to wipe at his eyes and so loud the sound crackles through Tater's laptop speakers.

“Oh my god. _Thank you_ ,” Kent gasps through laughter. “That face was way better than I actually imagined it.”

When Kent laughs this hard, the little crinkles around his eyes come out more.

“I put on for you.” Tater switches shirts over then turns round so Kent can see the back.

Kent smiles and bites his lip. “I was worried I'd got the size wrong but that's actually alright,” he says, cocking his head.

Tater rolls his eyes at the tone. “Is too small and you know this.”

Kent laughs and throws his hands up. “Guilty. That present might've been more for me than you.”

“I think it good for me too,” Tater assures him, “especially when we next meet. I wear for you.”

“Uh,” Kent looks dazed for a moment then clears his throat. “Yes please. Wow. This was a great present. Anyway, we should move on to an actual proper one.”

“Your turn first,” Tater says. “Open box.”

Kent tries to rip the tape off his box which only makes it pull and tangle.

Tater laughs at the frustration on Kent's face. “Maybe scissors?”

Kent pouts but dashes out of frame to grab some. With the tape finally out of the way, Kent flips the box open and his jaw drops.

“You have got to be kidding me. Seriously?”

Tater laughs, joyful. “Very seriously.”

Kent pulls out the jersey Tater had added to his box last minute—Falconers blue with his name and number. He pulls it on immediately over his Christmas sweater. Luckily, Tater got it big on purpose, so it looks like Kent is wearing one of Tater's own shirts.

“You look very nice in blue,” Tater tells Kent.

“Thanks babe.”

**15 months**

“What excuse this time?”

Kent has managed to stay an extra night in Providence to spend the night with Tater instead of traveling with the team back to Vegas. Their dinner is bland because neither wanted to spend much time in the kitchen, but Tater set the table earlier so there’s at least a nice tablecloth and a vase of Kent’s favourite flowers.

“Family emergency. Wait, no,” Kent holds his fork up. “That was last time. I think. Time before?”

“Running out of excuses,” Tater says, half-joking but half-worried their luck will run out. This is the fourth time Kent had done this but without telling the truth—there's no easily explainable reason he should be staying back here.

“I know.” Kent sighs and drops his head. “And Swoops is definitely getting suspicious. He hasn't asked me directly about it yet though.”

“Sorry your friend is suspicious.”

Kent shakes his head. “No it's not that. It's cool that he cares enough to pick up on it is just… It's really hard to have no-one to talk to about us except, you know, _us_.”

Tater nods and reaches across the table to grab Kent's hand, taking the fork from his hand so he can curl their fingers together. “I know. Want to tell many people I'm dating you. Want to say good things about you, tell funny stories, hear you get chirped because going on date.”

Kent smiles weakly. “Sounds nice. But I'm not—We decided not to do that.”

“I know,” Tater agrees. “But sometimes, before sleeping, I like to think about it. Like, if we not play hockey, what our life be like?”

“Like after we retire?”

“No. Like if we never played. Just two ordinary people. Meet in coffee shop or library, something.”

“Oh,” Kent says softly. “I get it.”

Kent bites his lip, clearly thinking hard on something. Tater rubs his thumb over the back of Kent's hand until Kent sighs and pulls it away. Tater misses the contact immediately but he lets Kent have his space.

“That's a really nice fantasy, Tate, but I...I can't give up hockey.” Kent says it like it's a sad thing. Like they're breaking up.

“Sh, is okay.” Tater pulls his chair around beside Kent's. If Kent didn't want Tater touching him right now that's fine, but he'll get as close as he can instead. “I know this already about you. Is one reason I like you so very much. And is alright. I feel same way.”

Kent looks at him, weary and still keeping his hands to himself. “Really?”

Tater nods. “Is why we work well together.”

Kent sighs out heavily. Tater can actually see tension leave his neck.

“We do, don't we.” Kent smiles at Tater.

“Yeah,” Tater says, smiling back.

-

Kent has an early flight the next morning. They don't have time for breakfast but Tater makes a coffee for Kent and puts it into one of his reusable coffee cups.

“I've been thinking about our talk last night,” he says as he hands it to Kent. He never travels with Kent to the airport. Their goodbyes happen behind closed doors.

“Me too,” Kent says.

“I think maybe it's time we tell people about us.”

Kent freezes for a second. “You do?”

Tater nods once, firmly. “We both in this. We both say is hard to have big secret, not be able to talk about. So I think, you tell Swoops and I tell Jack. Then we have a person each.”

“Are you serious?” Kent asks, stepping in to Tater. “I mean, Jack already knows about me but I'd essentially be outing you to Swoops.”

Tater is already nodding.“I'm serious about you. So yes. Am serious. I want you to have someone to talk to.”

Kent opens his mouth but nothing comes out but a breathy exhale. He pulls Tater in by the shoulder and kisses him with a passion that stirs Tater's gut.

-

“You know what's the worst thing on the first night?” Kent asks Tater later the same day during their evening phone call.

“No. What?”

“I can never get warm enough without your arms draped over me.”

Kent's always melancholy the first few days of separation after being together. Tater understands completely. They make the distance work but every time they actually meet up and can touch and hold and kiss and do it all face-to-face, he realises it could be so much more satisfying.

Tater remembers very clearly the first time they managed to spend a few days together, being a couple, how hard it was to say goodbye and how easily doubts crept in.

Tater recalls how the Skype connection lagged and Kent's voice shifted out of sync with his mouth. Like how Tater felt in that moment. Out of sync.

Kent had frowned. “You don't trust me?”

“No. I'm mean yes.” Tater groaned. He remembers thinking that English was a lot harder when he's tired. He was three hours ahead and had stayed up later than normal to Skype with Kent after his flight. “Yes, I trust you. I worry is all. And I miss you.”

Tater had been so worried he’d ruined the whole thing by confessing his fears to Kent, but then Kent's frown flipped and his eyes softened.

“Ah, I miss you too,” he had whispered. “A lot more than I thought I was going to.”

They’ve come a long way since then, with a lot of communication and verbally expressed commitments to each other. Tater and Kent had both been unprepared for the depth of their feelings, and worried because of it. It’s not something Tater worries about anymore, but he knows it’s the thing that makes saying goodbye still so hard.

 

**1 year 6 months**

Tater smiles when he hears the keycard in the door. He moves eagerly to the entrance hall to greet Kent. It's been their longest time apart this year and though they're good at regular Skype sessions now, it's always, always better in person.

“Have surprise for you,” Tater announces happily when Kent finally makes it to the hotel room they're staying in for the next three nights.

He always looks more golden in the flesh with his Las Vegas tan and blonde hair, though the latter is trapped under a cap Tater knows he wears on flights to try and hide his face.

“Hey, babe. Let me put my bags down first.”

“I get for you.” Tater grabs the bags off Kent and walks them through to the bedroom.

He hears Kent follow. He's taken the cap off and throws it onto his side of the bed.

“Hi,” Kent says again, walking over to Tater and wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Kent sighs out when they make contact. Tater knows the feeling because as soon as they touch his own body settles, like puzzle pieces clicking into place.

The hugs get longer every time they meet.

After Kent pulls back, he looks around the bedroom. “Is the surprise in here? I could get on board with that.”

Tater shakes his head. “No. Not here.”

“Alright then. I'm ready for whatever it is.”

“Okay. Is through here.”

Tater grabs Kent by the hand and pulls him through to the living area, stopping them in front of the dining table.

“Is that… Is that Carcassonne?” Kent turns to Tater with his mouth open.

“You said you like game but hard to find other who do and not good for during season.”

“So why is it here? Was it in the room?”

“No, no.” Tater holds Kent's face between his palms. “I bought special. For bringing here to play with you. We have three whole days together. Want to do something you like.”

Tater gives Kent a quick kiss. Kent's blushing when he pulls back.

“This is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Good. Want nice things for you. Shall we?”

Tater pulls out a chair for Kent who looks at him a while before dropping into it.

“You didn't say you knew how to play.”

“Didn't,” Tater says, sitting beside Kent. “Had to read rules. Confusing for me at first but I've been watching YouTube. I think I understand.”

“I'll help you,” Kent offers immediately. “We've got three whole days to get you good at this.”

Tater smiles, glad Kent's taken to his surprise.

 

**2 years 5 months**

_At the luggage carousel_ , Kent messages. _You here yet?_

Tater calls straight away. “Am here.”

Tater can hear the smile in Kent's voice. “So where's your pretty face? I can't see you.”

“Getting coffee for us.”

“Oh my god, thank you. Remind me to never get an overnight flight again. I didn't sleep at all.”

“You say every time then tell me you can't wait for morning flight. Is okay though. We can nap this morning.”

“You know, napping wasn't top of my list of things to do when I get my hands on you but I think,” Kent pauses to yawn, “it's going to have to happen. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“No no. No apology. I like sleeping with you.”

Tater pictures the smirk that goes along with Kent's, “Uh-huh.”

-

After their nap they stay in bed, lazy in the stretch of sunlight coming in from the window, Kent half on top of Tater. Tater rubs his fingers slowly through Kent’s hair. It's longer than when they were last together.

“Remember on our last big trip when you learnt Carcassonne?” Kent asks at some point, the first they've spoken since waking up.

“I remember.”

Kent pulls off Tater's chest to roll fully on top of him. He folds his arms over Tater's chest and props his chin on them. “Well this time, I've got a surprise for you.”

Tater rests his hands gently on Kent's back. “Did not have to do.”

“Of course I was going to,” Kent replies. Smiling and dropping his head to press a kiss to Tater's chest. “Okay, bear with me,” he says. “I'm still pretty new at this.” Kent takes a deep breath.

“Меня зовут Кент Парсон. Я играю в хоккей, и я капитан команды Лас-Вегас Эйсес. Я очень люблю своего бойфренда.”

Kent bites his lip at the end of it.

Tater blinks. “You learnt Russian?”

“I’m learning. I can only do a very basic conversation right now.”

Tater leans up to kiss Kent, overwhelmed by Kent learning his mother tongue. He's never asked for him to or even mentioned it. The fact that Kent's decided to learn it of his own volition is louder than the words themselves.

“Wow,” Kent says, breathy when Tater finally pulls back.

“You are amazing for do this for me,” Tater says with raw emotion.

Kent shakes his head. “You're the amazing one, Tater. I didn't realise until a few months ago how hard learning a second language would be. And you speak three. My boyfriend is so smart. So _умный._ ”

“Мой тоже.”

Kent looks lost for a second before he gives in and laughs. “Well, only got half of that. Obviously I still have a lot to learn.”

“So is mine,” Tater repeats in English. “Very smart.”

Kent's cheeks colour and he drops his head down on his arms.

“But I will help you learn, now that I know you trying.”

-

“Have you ever thought about moving in together?” Kent asks on the final day of their holiday as they lay in bed. The curtains in their room are open and outside the window the moon reflects upon the water.

“Yes. But not possible with hockey.”

“I know, I know. I mean more like…” Kent runs his fingers along the collar of Tater's t-shirt. He lets Kent take his time even though the pause is very long, long enough Tater stars to worry he won't share his thought.

After a few minutes, which Tater spends listening to the waves through the open window, Kent's fingers still and he whispers, “I meant _after_ hockey. When we've both retired.”

“Oh.” Tater is surprised. This is the most concrete they've ever talked about the future. Normally it's a simple allusion to still being together. Perhaps he should have picked up on it after Kent's reveal he's been learning Russian for months on top of his hockey schedule.

Kent has been thinking seriously about a future with Tater in it. Tater has too, of course, but he tried to never spend too long with those thoughts because they'd never had a conversation like this before.

“That maybe many years away,” Tater says, realising perhaps for the first time how deeply Kent means it when he says he loves him.

“Yeah. I know.” Kent curls his fist up against Tater's chest. “Does that idea scare you?”

Tater shakes his head and kisses the crown of Kent's head. “No. It not scare me.”

Kent sighs out. “Okay. Good. I was worried—even though we've been together for nearly three years—it might be too much.”

Tater spreads his fingers out across Kent's back, encouraging him a little closer. “That why not say anything before now?”

Kent sighs again. “Yeah. And, you know, maybe I was the one who was scared. A little. I mean, I've never shared anything like this with anyone.”

Tater smiles at Kent. “Me either.”

“I don't know what the timeline is for things like this. Moving in together and, and all of it.”

“Is okay if not know though. We can work out together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

 

**2 years 10 months**

Thankfully it’s just a bad sprain, nothing broken, but Tater’s seen the replay. It _looks_ bad. There's been no comment released by management and though they've known since the beginning of the season that he and Kent are together, he doubts anyone's thought to get a message to him. The team is still out on the ice—the game now on overtime—so none of them could send a message to Kent either, even though most have met him off the ice at least once and a few, Tater knows, consider him a friend.

Tater would have known Kent must be worrying even if the texts hadn't been coming in thick and fast. Tater can't keep up with them all, not with his dominant arm in a sling for the moment.

Kent's name flashes on his phone. “Could you?” he asks Georgia, who brought his phone in for him before answering.

“Of course. I'll wait outside.”

Tater waits until the door is shut before answering. It's hard to make out anything, and Tater wonders if its a bad signal. Then he realises. His boyfriend is crying.

“Hey, hey, is alright. Only sprain. I'm fine, K. I'm fine.”

It calms Kent somewhat but he's still breathing funny down the line.

“Why _you_ crying?” He tries to joke, “I'm one hurt.”

“I know!” Kent yells, the opposite reaction Tater was hoping for. It's hard without the visual to make sense of Kent's tone.

“Fuck. Sorry,” Kent apologises immediately. “God, I'm just so fucking frustrated with not being able to be there when you need me.”

“I know.” Tater has felt his own very similar frustrations many times. In their almost three seasons of dating, there have been a dozen injuries at least between them.

“I'm over it,” Kent spits. “Years of this scene on repeat. I wish I could just _be there_ , you know?”

Tater nods. “I know. I know.”

“But I'm _here_ and we promised we wouldn't do anything rash in situations like this.” Kent is practically growling with frustration. “But I want you to know I super desperately want to. I've had to talk myself out of buying plane tickets.”

Tater smiles at his boyfriend's wonderful antics. “I love you.”

Kent sighs out. “That's not the painkillers talking?”

Tater laughs. The joke was terrible, but it was a joke. “Of course not. If were painkillers would say something like much prefer you to be my doctor. You look very sexy in lab coat.”

Kent's laugh is a little strangled but it's there and it's better than any drug they could give him.

Tater knows it won't be the last time they have a conversation like this. The sport they play is known as much for the fights as for the game. Finding humour in the situation is all that Tater’s found that helps even a little, so they don't go crazy not being able to be beside each other in times like these.

  

**3 years 11 months**

“Eggnog now or later?” Kent asks.

“Depends.” Tater steps up behind Kent and wraps his arms around his middle. “You follow recipe?” He kisses the side of Kent’s neck. “Or from your head?”

“Hey,” Kent says with mock-offence, stirring the eggnog on the stove. “I put time and effort into this.”

Tater laughs and kisses Kent’s neck again. “Of course I have some. You made. How can I say no.”

Kent turns his head to peck Tater on the lips. “Don’t worry. I followed a recipe.”

It’s not bad and Tater even has a second glass.

They decorate their newly purchased house in Providence with every single item Kent's been amassing throughout the month. Every day it seemed he'd come home with a new set of lights, massive garland of tinsel, box of baubles or Christmas bunting. It isn't until the third glass of eggnog that the alcohol hits and after that the process is a lot more fun but also more challenging.

They order in for dinner and crash together on the couch after it's all up. Kent chooses a Christmas film to watch. It's nice watching movies with Kent. His commentary is often funnier than the films he chooses.

“You sure this is best Christmas film?” Tater asks halfway through the movie. “Seems a little… Not best.”

“When I said best I didn't mean like actually the best like good. I meant like fun. Are you not having fun? We can change.” Kent picks up his phone and opens the app. “There's heaps on here. Doesn't have to be Christmas even.”

Tater covers Kent's hand and pulls the phone from it.

“We keep watch. I can see you enjoy. Maybe I just watch you instead of film from now on.”

Kent bites his lip and repositions himself with only minor alcohol-related clumsiness so he's staring at Tater. “You know, when you stay stuff like that, it makes me not want to watch this anymore either.”

Tater raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Kent nods, his gaze drifting obviously from Tater's eyes down to his lips. They pause the movie for a little while.

-

They oversleep the next morning because both forgot to set an alarm. Thankfully, their friends—most of the Falconer’s roster plus a few Aces players—are coming for dinner which gives them plenty of time for cooking and cleaning still, and in Kent's case, panicking.

“Come here for a second,” Tater interrupts Kent on his way to the laundry by throwing his arm into his pathway.

“I need to get the broom out.” Kent tries to avoid Tater's arm but the hallway isn't that wide.

“One second?” Tater repeats.

Kent sighs. “Okay.” Thankfully, he goes easy into Tater's arms after that, settling in by leaning his full weight against Tater's chest.

Tater holds him for a minute, rubbing his palm up Kent's back. “Better?”

Kent nods against his chest.

“Still have two hours until invited. No need to run so much.”

“I know, it's just.” Kent pulls back to look at Tater, hands resting flat on Tater’s chest. “This is our first time hosting something together. We didn't even have a housewarming, you know? I'm just—I want it to go well.”

“Kent.” Tater lifts his palms to cup his boyfriends face. “Of course will go well. Because I love you, and so does everyone else who coming. They excited.”

Kent groans. “I hate when you're so reasonable.”

“No you don't,” Tater smiles. “Ты меня любишь.”

“Да. Я тебя люблю.”

“Now. Wanna distract me for two hours?” Kent wiggles his eyebrows. It's more endearing than sexy.

“Sure,” Tater agrees, wrapping his fingers around Kent's to pull him into the kitchen. “Need to ice gingerbread cookies still.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas all! Thanks for reading. I try to reply to all comments so feel free to leave one.
> 
> I've said it once and I'll be saying it again, thank you [Silvia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughgatorade/profile) for your amazing beta-ing efforts!
> 
> If you enjoyed this, check out my [2017 Swawesome Santa fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954804) (Pimbits coffee shop AU)
> 
>  **2 years 5 months**  
>  “My name is Kent Parson. I play hockey and am captain of the Las Vegas Aces. I love my boyfriend very much."  
> “So is mine."  
>  **3 years 11 months**  
>  “You love me.”  
> “Yes. I love you."


End file.
